


pressure overwhelming

by orphan_account



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Slow Burn, ill add tags as i go along, ryan is a ghost but with a twist, sort of a twist. i guess, warning for description of ryan's death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 14:05:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14310315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It had been a while since Ryan had died.





	pressure overwhelming

It had been a while since Ryan had died.

The exact date was guarded in a fuzzy haze, the years that had passed clouding most of his old memories, but if he had to guess he would set it around the 1890’s. He hadn’t been known or anything, and had been in a rural farm, so lucky for him, his death had never been given a name.

Of course, it didn’t help that his face had sort of been smashed in beyond repair, further isolating his name from his corpse. A murder of desperation, when the criminal had found nobody in the house, with Ryan having caught him, he killed to keep him quiet.

Adjusting to being a spirit had been hard at first. Ryan had found himself panicking when he realized what had happened, standing above his own body. The constant lack of energy was also sort of concerning. Not to mention having to get used to not being able to breathe, or perhaps the fact that he couldn’t sleep.

Ten years had passed, and that was when he managed to leave the farm he had been tethered to. It was hard at first, but he had practiced for days on end, pushing farther and farther on his spiritual boundaries when suddenly it broke and he was tumbling to the ground, now a free spirit.

Along the way, he picked up some new tricks. He was able to change his clothing if he thought hard enough about it, and soon was able to manipulate objects (with some difficulty at first, as he only had so much energy). But it was when he arrived at Los Angeles after decades of wandering that things really kicked up a notch.

The energy was fucking insane. The bright lights and the people and the technology and all of it. It was then that Ryan realized he could be seen. With all the energy being thrown into the world, he found himself more corporeal then he had been since his death, able to greet strangers and hold things in his hands for more than a minute. He had come a long way since the humble little farm. It was almost alarmingly easy to get back into the swing of the living. He copied fashion he saw on the streets, blending in well among the crowd of L.A. H

e had no money, not even when he was alive, but he supposed an advantage of being a spirit was that he could swindle the landlord to allowing him to stay in one of the smaller apartments. Life, or the afterlife in his case, was good. It took only two years (he had spent so much of his ghostly existence not knowing how much time had passed as he wandered, but he now had a fucking _cell phone_ with a calendar) of doing odd jobs to keep himself busy when he scored a spot at BuzzFeed. His days became much more interesting.

It was there that Ryan had met Shane Madej. The guy was unnaturally tall, lanky and almost scruffy-looking. He was a self-proclaimed “timid man”, soft and quiet. He had a knack for acting, and liked to drink. He was playful and nice to others, even if he was a bit sarcastic and confident in his beliefs.

One of said beliefs was his refusal of the existence of the supernatural.

Perhaps it was this fact that drove Ryan to become best friends with him. After all, if they became best friends, Shane couldn’t deny the existence of ghosts! And he was so annoying about it. Ryan had spent a lot of time just wandering, not really feeling anything, so the first time he had gotten annoyed at his taller idiotic counterpart, it had been a breath of fresh air. But now it was just plain frustrating.

“Dude, how can you like— I don’t know, be so insistence they don’t exist,” Ryan said one night at a local bar, a glass of gin in his hand. He didn’t drink, as he wasn’t that corporeal, but it was nice to have. Made him seem more normal. His cheeks were flushed enough to make it seem like he had been drinking, anyways. “It’s fucking— Stupid. You’re _stupid_.”

Shane laughed, slurred and stupid. Just like his fucking belief in not supernatural. Anti-ghosts? Whatever. "I can’t believe you believe in them, man! And that you’re scared of them!” The taller man lifted his glass to his lips, hazel eyes sparkling. It continued to sparkle until Ryan had to help Shane clean the vomit off his shirt, tucked in an alley.

The fear thing wasn’t true. Ryan wasn’t scared, not in the sense that Shane saw it. It was easy to pretend for their series that he was scared, frightened by every little thing. But he was scared of the malicious spirits, tethered to the place they had died, just as he once had. Filled with hatred, spitting at Ryan for having the audacity to pretend he was part of the living, for barging in on their tense resting place.

The civil war soldiers were melancholy in nature, forever stuck marching and shooting at enemies that weren’t there. The murder victims were always wailing, seeking revenge on the living. There were cats and dogs that scampered around, searching for their owners. Ryan had seen it all on his trips with Shane, felt the spirits’ confusion as to how he had become corporeal, and was now blending in with the living. He didn’t understand it himself, even if he had chalked it up to the energy in Los Angeles.

He knew the reason why he was doing this. He couldn’t tell Shane he was a ghost— He wouldn’t believe him, and if he proved it, well. It’d be over for them. But Ryan had always been stubborn, and if he didn’t prove they were real, then he would have a ghostly fit. How were the recordings not enough? The pictures? The spirit box? As he sat at their shared desk, his brown eyes drifted to Shane’s face, hard at work at typing up a script.

He would prove it to him, some way or another, or he’d be damned to eternal walking of this place.

**Author's Note:**

> this is mostly made for stress relief idk. i dont like it but its a series i guess  
> follow me on tumblr @drunkshane i like to talk and i whine a lot


End file.
